Glamorous
by chickadee3711
Summary: He was on top, right where he belonged. And he wasn't going to let anything get in the way of that, not even an attractive blonde with an anger issue. Hell no. AU, Shizaya. Gotta love Izaya as a stuck up diva!
1. Chapter 1

Lights flashed all around him and blurred the vague outlines of the photographers who were flitting about, snapping pictures and humming praise. It was pointless for them to offer tips or compliment his poses; he was the best and he didn't need to be reminded, though he couldn't say he didn't enjoy it. The kind words from his colleagues fluffed his ego quite nicely.

Izaya smirked and ran a hand through his hair, walking off of the set for a break. This day couldn't get any better in his mind. The only shoot he had was this one, and they were just taking beauty shots for a magazine cover. He almost felt nostalgic from the way they wanted him to pose since the first big shoot he ever did was glamour and he even had his original photographer there. After this, he would be returning to his classy little loft apartment to get ready for dinner with an up-and-coming male model that he would be working with. Namie had been hounding him for weeks; trying to make sure he'd be on his best behavior and not insult the man. Since he was such a kind person at heart, and wouldn't want to cause trouble, he smiled and said he'd be a good boy.

Brown eyes narrowed, and Izaya felt the wooden backing of a clipboard collide with the side of his head. He frowned and looked up to see Namie hovering over him with one hand on her hip while the other held her ever present clipboard.

"We have a half an hour left and _now_ you decide to take a break?" his manager said, less than pleased with his timing.

Izaya chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "Oh, lighten up! I've done amazing so far and haven't complained once. I deserve a little down time. After all, wouldn't you say my shots so far have been beyond gorgeous?"

"Mediocre at best," Namie deadpanned. Izaya's grin dropped, replaced by a scowl. "You're too flashy. Everything looks overdone."

"That's not what the photographers are saying," he replied, fighting off the urge to snap that clipboard in half. Izaya's photos were flawless, he was sure of it. He had done everything right. Each pose was perfectly executed and played up his best features. His head tilted to the side enough to show his neck, he kept his face at an angle that emphasized the unique color and shape of his eyes, and if the mood struck him, he would bend his body in a way that showed off his lithe physique.

Namie scoffed at him and flourished her clipboard. "Oh, please! These saps will eat up anything as long as their model has a pretty face."

Case and point: even Namie had to admit he was lovely. "I always knew you thought I was attractive," the young man purred, smirk returning. He knew this would get under her skin. She couldn't stand when he made comments like this since she was appalled by any idea of affection that wasn't directed towards her brother.

As predicted, Namie glared at him and trudged off to go bite the head off of an unsuspecting intern. Izaya laughed and sipped his water as he watched the scene unfold. Much to his disappointment, the photographer called him back over.

Izaya whined a little bit and moved in front of the white backdrop once again, sprawling out on a plush couch they had positioned there when he wasn't paying attention. He raised his arms above his head to stretch when he was caught off guard by the sound of a shutter clicking. His pupils refocused and zeroed in on the photographer who was smiling innocently.

"It looked like a good shot, so I went for it," the man said, holding up his camera to emphasize his point. "You look the best when you're just being natural."

Smirk yet again gracing his lips, Izaya propped his head up on his hand. "Tell me something I don't know."

* * *

Steam fogged up the mirror and small digital screen, but the red numbers glared up at him all too clearly. 129 pounds. That meant that he had somehow, by unfathomable means, gained a pound.

Izaya frowned, clicking his tongue as he stepped off of the scale. He poked and prodded his flat stomach but was anything but pleased with what he saw. There was too much excess fat. He'd have to fix that. Next he went on to scrutinize his legs, tugging at the little fat that he found there as well. His body would make other women envious yet he still wasn't happy.

"Guess I'm back to controlling my portions," Izaya sighed, glaring at the scale in the corner of the bathroom, all sleek and silver and unassuming. To him, it might as well have been the devil.

His hair was already dry for the most part after a simple run down with a towel and was now looking tousled and silky as ever. Turning his head from side to side so he could get a good look at himself, he made sure there wasn't anything unseemly on his skin. Luckily for his dinner date, his foul mood wasn't worsened by this; the expanse of pale skin was without a single blemish.

With this little physical check over and done with, Izaya lazily pulled on a pair of fitted black slacks and a white v-neck, because honestly, he can make even a cotton t-shirt look classy. The jacket he put on over the top was simple and chic with a bit of fur lining the hood, cuffs, and bottom. Another glance towards the mirror and a mental pep-talk later and Izaya was out the door, on his way to a high end restaurant to meet with some low grade model who thought they were good enough to work with him.

_You've got another thing coming, kid_, Izaya thought, auburn eyes gleaming with mischief as he stepped into the imported black car his fame had earned him.

* * *

**Haha, this is just a little something for me to do during my down time when I've got writer's block for my main stories. Oh Iza-chan, such a prima donna.**

**Hope you guys enjoy this one! It's meant to be romancey-funny stuff mostly, but there's going to be some serious stuff goin' on, as hinted in the chapter above.**

**~Chickadee**


	2. Chapter 2

A couple glasses of Romane Conti on the ride over had definitely taken the edge off. No longer did Izaya want to tease this new guy out of spite, he wanted to just for the fun of it. Izaya was quite good at holding his liquor but he had a tendency to get very _playful_ when he was buzzed. The few times he had gotten to this point had ended in disaster, Namie finding him against a wall with some unknown man kissing his neck, then Namie stabbing the man in the ribs with her high-heeled shoe. He had avoided alcohol for the most part after that but this seemed like the perfect time to lower his inhibitions. For all he knew, the wine would help him in making a good first impression.

* * *

As he stepped into the upscale restaurant, he was met with the finishing chords of what he recognized as a Ludovico Einaudi piece. He hummed the tune, more on key than the pianist at that gold-embellished baby grand, and wove his way around tables until he spotted Namie. She was drumming her fingers on the table in irritation as she idly chatted with the man across from her. With dreadlocks and thin, modern glasses, this man was the perfect image of the fashion industry. His suit was tailored to fit him in all of the right places and it did wonders for that thin frame. If he weren't so obviously straight Izaya might have messed around with him a little, just to fluster the poor thing. However, his attention was on the gorgeous creature that sat to the man's right. Messy hair that rivaled the color and luster of the golden chandelier above them was brushed aside by a large hand just then. Izaya followed the line of slim fingers down this man's arm until he gaze landed on a toned bicep, shrouded by a simple dress shirt. A slight rush flooded his body, making his spine tingle and heart beat faster. Izaya let out a small purr in appreciation and continued to observe this masterpiece of a man. His chest was that of a god, Izaya could tell; the space left unbuttoned on his shirt giving him a decent view. To top it all off, he had a strong jaw line which was currently jutting out in a childish pout.

Izaya couldn't help but smirk as he took his place beside Namie. She glowered at him darkly.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Izaya," his manager spat. Izaya just laughed it off and sipped his Chardonnay.

"Blame the driver, not me. I'm not the one at fault here," he said. Quickly, his attention left the fuming woman and returned back to the other two men. He outstretched his hand, waiting for either one to take it. "Izaya Orihara. And you are?"

"Tom Tanaka. It's a pleasure to meet you," the man with dreadlocks said, shaking his hand and smiling amiably.

Izaya let out another amused purr. "Trust me, the pleasure is all mine."

His eyes flicked over to the blonde as he spoke those words. Izaya put his hand out to him only to have it stared at like it was diseased.

"Shizuo Heiwajima," the blonde said in a low baritone that resonated in his chest. No more words came from him, so his manager cut in to keep an awkward silence from falling between the four.

"Shizuo here has done a few spreads some pretty famous designers, and he even was even a model for one of those expensive American clothes lines," Tom told them. Namie forced a smile even though she was so unimpressed in hurt, and Izaya just grinned even more.

He propped his elbow up on the table, chin resting daintily in his palm. "Oh, you model? I've never heard of you," Izaya mewled derisively.

Caramel colored eyes narrowed at him from across the table. Shizuo looked like he was about to say something before Tom interrupted. "He's pretty new to the industry, so that's understandable."

"Or maybe he's not as good as I've been told," Izaya continued, licking a bubble from the rim of glass.

The lone woman at the table cleared her throat loudly. Namie was on the verge of a homicidal breakdown due to all of the pure _stupidity_ going on around her. "Can we please just get to the whole point of us having this little get together?" she hissed.

"Ah, yes," Tom said nervously. "We've been thinking about having you two do a shoot together, and depending on how things go, you'd also do a few advertisements that air globally in magazines and on TV. I figured working with Izaya-kun would help get Shizuo's name out there, and Izaya would get more publicity for working with a novice."

"No."

Three pairs of eyes trained on the statuesque blonde after he spoke. He was swirling the Chardonnay around in his glass, uninterested in everything up until that point.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Namie asked. Her eyes had widened to the point where it was almost funny, but Izaya was too busy being offended by that all too quick rejection.

"I'm not working with him," Shizuo said. He said his glass down as gently as he could manage. Those intense brown eyes focused on Izaya who was now scowling. "You piss me off."

With another swig of white wine, the grin was back. "Oh yeah? Too bad. I was thinking you and I could have some real fun together."

"Come on Shizuo, can we at least try one shoot? If things don't go well then you won't have to work with him again," Tom tried to reason, desperately wanting to get his client's name out there, and he knew that Izaya was his ticket to fame. People all around the world knew who he was. Men and women alike wanted him and wanted to be him. If Shizuo could just do one magazine page with this man then they would be set.

Shizuo looked between Izaya and Tom, fists balled up tightly. The pleading look on Tom's face broke down his last wall of defense. "Fine," he said with a sigh. "But if you do one more thing to piss me off, I'm gonna kick your smarmy little ass. Got it?"

This clearly well-thought out threat was directed at Izaya with the intentions of scaring him into submission. Instead, the raven haired man _giggled._

"Whatever you say, _Shizu-chan_," Izaya said.

At that very moment, Shizuo was pretty sure he hated his life.

* * *

**Haha, this is fun to write. It makes me giggle every time I open up the document ^.^**

**Anyways, I hope you guys like it as much as I do. Show me some love and review, please!**

**~Chickadee**


End file.
